Of course it works for him, because he owns it. He knows he's an asshole and he revels in it. That doesn't mean he isn't the most irritating scum of the earth, but everything they say about the sexuality of self confidence is probably true.

Her quip doesn't earn her more than an eye roll, because he's on a warpath. He knows he both jumped the gun and beat her at her own game here, but there's know way of knowing it'll play off. If Porrim likes games so much, she might turn this one against him too.

So no, he isn't down to his socks. He's waiting impatiently in there, fully clothed and leaning against the sink with his arms folded over his chest. When she steps into the room, the temptation to cross toward her and just go for glory and everything is real. He should refrain, especially when she makes a quip like that.

And he does refrain. For about five seconds.

He steps over with an easy pace, placing a hand on the door behind her and leaning in with an artfully slow pace. "Right back at you, cupcake." He murmurs, leaning in to press their lips together while his other hand slips past to lock the door.